


Footnote

by kribban



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: Dean doesn't care about this reality or the fact that it doesn't have Sam in it. Not his brother, not his problem.





	Footnote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunabee34 (Lorraine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thanatopsis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377028) by [lunabee34 (Lorraine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34). 



_June 18th, 2017..._

The sharp tug stopped abruptly and they both stumbled. The ground was solid beneath their feet – concrete, not rock. 

”You okay?” Dean caught his breath and slapped his brother on the shoulder. Sam spun around to check their surroundings before letting out a deep sigh.

”This is the wrong reality.” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.

”You don't say,” Dean said dryly, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit relieved. Ever since losing their mother to a Post-Apocalyptic Hellscape, they'd been hopping through realities to find her again. Dean was exhausted beyond belief, and as he looked out over the _not_ war torn countryside he made up his mind. 

”All right, we've got twenty-four hours 'til Jack's powered up again. I say we make the best of it. Get some down time.” 

Sam's shoulders stiffened. ”We need to research the supernatural set-up of this reality, Dean, we should look for useful resources...”

”None of that will do jack shit for us back home, and you know it. Different toys for every sandbox, Sammy. Can't bring 'em home to our own.” 

He watched his baby brother surrender in pieces. Sam's face fell before his shoulders did. He ran a hand through his long hair, then over his eyes. 

”I just want a lead, Dean. All we do is skip blindly from reality to reality, hoping to stumble upon the right one. By the time we find it – if we ever do - Mom could already be...” 

”Hey,” Dean shook Sam roughly. ”Mom's a good hunter. She can take care of herself.” 

It wasn't the first time either of them had said it, and it wouldn't be the last.

 

Forty minutes later they were in a perfectly normal diner where a perfectly normal waitress served them breakfast. The currency was the same in this reality, so Sam paid with a twenty and not the strips of gold that were at the bottom of his duffel. 

The wi-fi was good too, and Sam searched this reality's recent history for the usual key events. After only a few minutes, he put his phone away (already a good sign) and dug into his eggs. 

”Weather patterns are consistent with a small number of demons, which means the Devil's gate hasn't been opened, and there was no Apocalypse or averted Apocalypse. No angels.”

Dean felt his already good mood improving by the minute. ”So we were born but avoided the pitfalls.”

”Maybe Azazel never got to me,” Sam said softly, a line appearing between his brows. ”I was never killed, you never went to Hell. Maybe–”

Dean felt like rolling his eyes. ”Does it matter? It's not our fucking planet.” 

 

It didn't matter, not one bit, and they got a room at the nicest motel within walking distance. 

The usual headache and dizziness crept up on Dean while they were enjoying their Chinese take-out, but Sam was strangely unaffected. 

”You think I'm dead?” he asked and shook out a pill in Dean's hand. The symptoms wouldn't get any worse before their extraction, so Dean wasn't worried about the rest of their shore leave. He swallowed the pill dry and reached for the TV remote. 

”Don't know, don't care.” 

Sam returned to his position on the bed and to his Szechuan chicken. ”You're not the least bit curious?” 

”Not my brother, Sammy, not my problem.” 

 

Dean should have realized there was something strange about the waitress, he thought later. The cheerful friendliness that waitresses usually displayed had been toned down, and she hadn't asked him how he wanted his eggs or coffee. 

His counterpart was a regular customer at the diner, and Dean would have come to that conclusion if he hadn't been so aggressively disinterested in this reality.

Well, hindsight really was a bitch.

”I can explain,” he said calmly and kept his hands in the air. 

Other Dean didn't seem interested in hearing his explanation. Without lowering his gun – Sam's gun – he took out a knife. 

”I'm not a shifter,” Dean gritted his teeth. ”Go on, test me.” He lowered one hand slowly and held it out, palms up. Other Dean glared at him and pocketed the knife again. Instead of cutting Dean he tossed something at him – a coin. A silver dollar. 

Dean held it up between his thumb and forefinger. ”See? I'm you - from an alternate reality.” 

”No such thing,” Other Dean said after a pause but he didn't sound at all sure. 

Time to bring out the big guns.

”Trust me, I'm very real,” Dean said patiently. ”So is Sam. Don't worry, we're not staying.”

 

Across the motel was a bar, and it was pretty empty at this time of day. Other Dean couldn't take his eyes off Sam, so Dean handled the necessary small talk. 

(”I'm the adventurous one, he's the nerd.”) 

A set of identical twins was probably the most exciting thing the bartender had seen all week, and she gave them nachos on the house. 

It was a bit weird that Other Dean wasn't peppering them with questions. They'd told him they had a powerful ally who could send them to other realities, and that they were here to look for magical artifacts. They hadn't said a word about Mom or Lucifer, or anything they weren't sure existed here; Prime Directive-style. 

Other Dean didn't seem to be interested in the mechanics of how and why they were here but asked Sam about his habits, his hunting style, and his plans for the future. 

”So... did I die here?” Sam asked at last 

Other Dean nodded. ”Vampires. Nine years ago.” 

Jesus Christ, nine years. Dean tried to think back to nine years ago... 2008? They'd known about demon deals back then, had already lost Dad in one, and yet, somehow, Other Dean was still alive and kicking. 

Dean should probably be proud of the fact that there was one reality where he had been smart enough to dodge that bullet, but he wasn't. 

”I'm sorry for your loss,” Sam said gently.

Other Dean looked out through the sand-stained window, the one that was facing the motel. He nodded. 

 

”Did he seem weird to you?” Dean asked later when they were waiting for Jack to pull them back home. 

Sam chuckled. ”Yeah, Dean, he seemed liked he was seeing his dead brother and himself from an alternate reality.”

A shiver ran through Dean's body, and he suddenly couldn't wait to get out of here. ”I've seen my face in the mirror, man. I know my tells. He was definitely hiding something.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. ”What happened to 'Not my planet, not my problem'?”

Dean was about to answer, but the air cracked and fizzled. A glowing crack suddenly appeared in the motel wall - building a bridge from this reality to their own. Sam went first, and Dean threw a final glance over his shoulder as if the reality itself could give the answer to his question. 

He shrugged, and went through, and put it out of his mind.


End file.
